


Bound Hand and Heart

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [15]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book canon compliant, Bound and Fettered in Iron Chains, I wish i could call this a pwp at this point, King Aziraphale has deposed Emperor Crowley, M/M, Sexual Roleplay, and FUCKING nerds, and here i am like a CLOWN to deliver, and they fuck about it, apparently i'm gonna have to actually do a fic about this warring Kingdom and Empire, but there's like roleplay plot here, cause they're fucking nerds, cause this worldbuilding was weirdly fun, i wrote this in 3 hours so like, literally one person asked for a sequel to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: 9/12 Days of Blasphemy 2020“Bind them continually upon thine heart, and tie them about thy neck.” (Proverbs 6:21)Crowley and Aziraphale roleplay some sexy capture and bondage, where Aziraphale is the clever King who's usurped Emperor Crowley all to maneuver him into a very enjoyable marriage.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Bound Hand and Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A direct continuation of day 5 ([Bound and Fettered In Iron Chains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28424682)) as they roleplay the reverse. You do not have to read that one to understand this one.
> 
> If you notice a typo you can tell me if you know me.

Crowley sat back against the cold, stone wall and gnawed on the gag in his mouth. It was leather and kept him from making a nuisance for the guards posted outside his cell but, eventually, leather could be worn through if one was as stubborn as Crowley. The most annoying part of it all was how he was bound, arms up behind his head, crossed at the wrist where it attached to a collar. They'd stripped him of his gold and jewels but hadn't bothered to give him a shirt to make up for how cold it was in this kingdom, and he fiercely missed the deserts of his own domain.

Caught up in his reminiscence, Crowley didn't notice exactly when the door had opened and someone stepped through. Not a guard, no, this one was too finely dressed in silks and velvet brocade, frills at the neck and wrists with tight-fitted stockings up his calves leading down to the gaudiest shoes Crowley had ever seen in his life. How impractical.

He couldn't stop himself from scoffing and rolling his eyes, probably not his best bet at making it out alive, no. His gaze rose again defiantly and he looked up to the man who had entered and gasped softly, for once glad for the gag between his lips to muffle it, despite all his excessive clothes and gaudy wealth on display, there was the most beautiful man Crowley had ever seen staring back at him.

"As I'm sure you're aware," The man spoke, his voice sweet as honey but stern, the iron rod underneath velvet glove, "Your Empire has been… decimated."

Crowley sneered up at the man. It was true, but he didn't have to _say_ it. The man only smiled, irritatingly serene, down at Crowley and stepped forward, slow and precise. Every click of his heel on the stone floor echoed in the small, empty room, and Crowley deliberately did not let himself shiver with the clicking reverberation.

With a surprising amount of force, the man ripped the leather gag from Crowley's mouth and made a face at the wetness of his saliva on the part he'd been chewing at, as if he'd had the ability _not_ to slobber on it when it kept his teeth apart. Gritting his jaw Crowley snarled, they already thought of Crowley's empire as barbarians, might as well give them what they wanted.

The man before him frowned lightly and made a noise like a nanny might to a misbehaving child, tutting at his uncouthness. "Now, that seems a bit uncalled for. And here I thought we'd done you a favor, not executing you in front of all your people…"

Crowley suppressed a growl at that, swallowed to fix the dryness of his throat and spoke, "You clearly know me. Why are you here?"

The man blinked in surprise like he hadn't thought Crowley might not know who he was or exactly what his agenda might be, and it took everything in Crowley not to roll his eyes like he still wanted to.

"I'm the king," he said, bemusement coloring his voice and dripping from him in the worst sort of mockery. "King Aziraphale, your conqueror."

Crowley grumbled and frowned at that, _this_ was the military genius that had dogged his steps for so long? That had somehow raided his palace and taken them over in the dead of night without so much as a true invasion? _This_ soft looking man was a scourge on the battlefield? He could scarcely believe it.

"Yeah," Crowley scoffed, tilting his head to the side and sneering pointedly, "S' not what I asked, is it? I know what name belongs to that pretty face, _your highness_ , I asked, why are you here."

Aziraphale huffed, still looking far too amused and folded his hands behind his back to lean in for a closer look at Crowley's face. "I, my dear, am here to offer you a deal."

Crowley's eyes narrowed, "A deal?"

"I know you heard me. Your life in exchange for your empire." Aziraphale murmured, voice soft and sweet and alluring again, low and hypnotizing.

"Do you not already have it?" Crowley mocked, "Am I not already in chains and my palace disrupted? Or do my people bang on the doors to take their revenge for their Emperor?"

"Not as such," Aziraphale replied dryly, pursing his lips. "I didn't want to do this, you know… Your Empire was creeping ever Northward and, well, with my kingdom in the way of that creep it was only a matter of time before you turned your eye to us. With your full attention, we very well might have lost this conflict between us."

The man paused and sighed heavily, frowning, "This isn't how I wanted it to go. I had hoped you would simply stay out of our lands, but you forced my hand into more and more daring gambits to keep from your clutches, you know." Crowley snarled, interrupting Aziraphale.

"You know well that my Empire has not taken–"

"Has not taken any state against their wishes? Subsumed those you conquered? Don't think me a fool easily played by your silver tongue, _Crowley_." Aziraphale cut off sternly, the lack of title and respect, even now, rankled at Crowley.

"We leave their leaders intact, there's nothing you would need to have feared from us!" Crowley hadn't realized he was leaning forward until his shoulders started to ache where they pulled from his binds.

"Be that as it may," Aziraphale replied after a moment, "We are still here, and things are as they are. You still have a choice. Execution, or abdicate your rule to my kingdom."

Crowley grit his teeth and looked down, his hair falling from his shoulders to veil his face as he thought. Was that really all there was available? There was _always_ a third option, even if he couldn't see it at the time, there's never only just the two, what was it this time, what was the– _aha_.

"Well," Crowley murmured, looking up to make eye contact with Aziraphale, his face pulled into a charming smile and his voice lowered just enough to cause listeners to lean in to hear him properly, "Execution's off the table. I don't really fancy being put to death. Dying is one thing, but useless sacrifice is another."

Aziraphale watched him warily, clearly waiting for whatever it was he thought up. But he didn't speak, didn't give Crowley any other options or openings, so Crowley continued.

"Abdication, though, is also not my preference." Crowley pulled on an over-emphasized pout to make his point. "I think there's another option, there's _always_ a third option, Aziraphale. And I think you know what it is, you didn't present it on purpose, hm?"

"I daresay," Aziraphale muttered, "That I have no idea what you're talking about. There is no third option here, it is to hand over your Empire publicly and pave our way or die and we take it forcefully, and your kinsmen and people will likely die in greater numbers than necessary for your arrogance."

Crowley hissed angrily before pulling himself back and putting on his calm, come-hither mask once more.

"No, no, you have it all wrong, _my king_." Crowley grinned widely at how Aziraphale's throat bobbed at the title, at how Crowley's voice caressed it and the heavily lidded eyes on a shirtless, attractive man saying it. Crowley knew what he was, there wasn't a point in denying it, and he'd seduced his fair share.

"I have it wrong?" Aziraphale asked, clearing his throat and looking down at Crowley, though not meeting his eyes. Staring at his nose, probably, Crowley thought, but that'd mean his gaze was only so far from his mouth. Carefully, slowly, Crowley opened his mouth and let his tongue lick over his lips to wet them and then breathed in to speak again. Aziraphale's gaze was much easier to track now.

"Yes, you see," Crowley began, deepening his voice just a smidge until it was sultry, "There's a third option, like I said. Sub-option of the abdication, I suppose, but a third option nonetheless. I _don't_ step aside and hand over all my life's work uniting all these people and bringing them better technology and education and facilitating trade from all parts of my empire… but you benefit from being at the top. You become a part of the empire, but you would either way with _both_ your offers, just at the top of the dog pile, and you become my equal in it."

Aziraphale had stepped forward again, unconsciously perhaps, looking just a little mesmerized by Crowley's counter-offer, and a bit like he desperately wanted whatever it was Crowley was talking about. So, emboldened by the step and the look (and funny how those shoes didn't sound so loud when Aziraphale was distracted) Crowley kept talking.

"Marry me," Crowley murmured, "We pretend all the while I've been courting you, or you me whichever you like, save face for all of us. No angry nations loyal to their previous master for you to contend with, no bumpy road to integrate your people into the wealth of the empire and _you_ , you get showered in wealth and luxury the likes of which you've never seen, and we rule together… how 'bout it?" Crowley grinned his most winsome smile up at Aziraphale, who was suddenly so, so close. How did that happen?

"That's your third option?" Aziraphale muttered and knelt down onto one knee, his arm resting on the other, until he was eye level with Crowley, face close enough to kiss if not for the face Crowley was held back by rope on his arms and collar on his neck attached to the wall high up. "What would you do, then, if I was already married, hm? Or in love with another?"

Aziraphale reached out and softly tucked Crowley's hair behind his ear, nearly cupping the side of his face, and Crowley's breath hitched at how gentle he was. That was… unexpected. And enticing in ways it shouldn't have been, it took everything Crowley had in him not to squirm and bring attention to and burgeoning hardness in his loose trousers.

"Well, then, I… I don't know. Would you stay loyal to love alone if it was your country at stake? If you could provide better for them by tying yourself to a brute with wealth and power who would favor you, despite your love?" Crowley's voice was little more than a whisper. It didn't have to be louder, not with how close Aziraphale was. Crowley felt dizzy with it, his head spun and all at once he was vulnerable and invincible, drunk on desire and startlingly sober with burning need.

"Lucky for the both of us, I think, that I do not have any paramour at the moment, nor a wedded husband…" Aziraphale whispered back. His eyes were sharp and piercing and it felt like they'd look into Crowley's very soul and rip him open to feast on his secrets, bright and clear and infinitely clever. Fuck, this had been the plan the whole time, hadn't it?

This had been Aziraphale's gambit from the beginning, drawing Crowley's attention, fighting on the fields himself, even sneaking through his palace to depose him with the least amount of bloodshed possible. Crowley's third choice motto wasn't something secret, in fact it was a well-known fact that he believed in it.

"Oh," Crowley breathed, laughing to himself he closed his eyes and fell back against the wall, slumping and uncaring how vulnerable it left his torso. "You clever bastard. Courting me, then? Very well, you've got my _undivided_ attention." He couldn't wipe the smile off his face for all the riches in the world, it was just so… _clever_ , Crowley couldn't help but fall in love just a little bit for it.

"I'll thank you to know I'm not a bastard, Emperor." Aziraphale's eyes sparked with mirth and even he had a difficult time tamping down on his smile in face of Crowley's renewed laughter.

"But," Aziraphale said, his voice low and deep and a fair shake at sultry. He reached out a finger to Crowley, and slowly trailed it down from chest to stomach making Crowley tremble. "I think I ought to know, my dear, before we are wed, how… satisfied I might be. If I am to stray, I'd like to know ahead of time to make my plans."

Crowley swallowed heavily and a fire lit in his gut, flooding his body with heat in his veins. "Oh, believe you me, I'll fuck you so well you won't even _think_ of straying."

"Big words from a man tied up and at my mercy." Aziraphale smiled innocently, which Crowley was _swiftly_ learning wasn't very innocent at all.

"In that case," Crowley said, smirking his challenge, "I'll let you fuck me." Aziraphale hummed for a moment and Crowley sat back up. He allowed himself to shiver with a pleased smile when Aziraphale's hands dropped a little lower than his stomach, down to the waist of his trousers. Crowley leaned forward as far as he could with his bonds the way they were, but it was far enough. Their lips met in a searing kiss and Crowley moaned at the spike of tension between the two of them, his heart jumping in his chest like a wild hare.

Crowley moaned again, just barely louder than Aziraphale's breathy groan, when Aziraphale's hand fell lower once more and cupped between his legs, the pressure on his cock was exquisite agony, and the stone cell no longer felt cold. Aziraphale broke the kiss and stood quickly, before Crowley could say anything at all, he was being hauled up with a strength hidden by Aziraphale's soft form, leaving him gasping in his desire.

Now standing, Aziraphale crowded Crowley against the wall and he hissed at the chill of the stone on his bare back, but it was quickly forgotten when Aziraphale's clever fingers dove beneath his trousers to take him in hand. Crowley's head fell back and he panted with every exhale, trying to keep himself in check to make good on his promise to Aziraphale.

"Fuck, _fuck,_ wait–" Crowley begged unashamedly, "I want you in me, I want to cum on your cock. Fuck me into the wall, Aziraphale." He made eye contact with Aziraphale and was pleased to see his eyes dilate at Crowley's suggestions. Crowley whined a little at the loss of contact from Aziraphale as he shifted back, but enjoyed the show greatly when Aziraphale began stripping his clothing until he was down to his shorts and stockings, those he pushed down carefully and stepped out of his shoes until he was fully bare to Crowley's hungry eyes.

"Bless me," Crowley cursed under his breath, "But _fuck_ you're beautiful. G– I swear to you Aziraphale, if you don't fuck me _right now_ –" Aziraphale laughed and cut him off with another heated kiss, their chests firm against each other as Aziraphale pressed Crowley against the wall under his weight, and the feeling of skin on skin made something in Crowley go wild.

He nipped at Aziraphale's lip and delved into his mouth, their tongues twining even as Crowley lifted his legs to wrap around Aziraphale's hips, and _oh fuck, yes_ right there. The friction and pressure of Aziraphale's cock slotting beside Crowley's was amazing, and he hissed his pleasure.

Aziraphale's hands roamed Crowley's skin (lucky bastard, Crowley wanted to feel _him_ up too, rude) and tweaked his nipples as they kissed, grinding their hips together. Crowley reveled in their moans and all the sounds of their building pleasure of how well they fit together, but there was still one problem. Crowley was dressed.

When hands met Crowley's trousers and made to pull them down, Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale's hips and growled. Pulling him impossibly closer, Crowley bit the side of Aziraphale's neck and murmured, "Just tear them off, Aziraphale."

The way Aziraphale trembled was answer enough, and Aziraphale didn't bother to hide how his arms tensed, and then Crowley's loose trousers tore down the center seam up to where it met the waistband in front and back, leaving him still clothed but all the more debauched for it. Crowley moaned and cursed under his breath, praises falling off his lips for Aziraphale's strength and his cleverness, and promises of his ardor and attention and all his favor spilled from him like honey.

Aziraphale pressed two slick fingers into Crowley and where he'd gotten that from Crowley didn't care at all (and refused to acknowledge the hidden snap that came before it), moaning happily at the stretch.

"Fuck, yes, fuck Aziraphale," Crowley babbled and his back arched with how Aziraphale spread him and fucked into him with his fingers, "Please, Aziraphale, angel, _fuck!_ "

Aziraphale leaned in and laid burning kisses to Crowley's neck and chest, adding a third finger into him for a few thrusts and scissoring Crowley open as best he could, but Crowley could feel his resolve not to simply pull Crowley onto his cock faltering. So, he helped it along.

Crowley rolled his torso from his chest all the way down to his hips (one good thing about being a snake was the absolute muscle control over his stomach and the like, great for body rolls and belly dancing to be sure) and made sure he moved over Aziraphale's cock. The quick intake of a gasp from Aziraphale said he hit his mark rather well, actually.

Aziraphale pulled his fingers from inside Crowley and gripped Crowley's hips, pulling him up and easily manhandling him into position. Making some rather intense eye contact, Aziraphale lowered Crowley down onto his cock tortuously slowly until Crowley couldn't help but throw his head back and moan, the breath pushed out from his lungs with how full Aziraphale made him. Whispering obscenities hoarsely under his breath, Crowley attempted to wriggle his hips when Aziraphale took just a little too long to bottom out inside him, but Aziraphale's grip was intoxicatingly strong.

He had no recourse except to let Aziraphale guide their tempo, lifting Crowley up and canting back his hips until he nearly left Crowley entirely before slamming back into him roughly, passing over his prostate with each thrust, and Crowley was in ecstasy. (Never mind how the stone was abrading his back, right now it felt amazing, the juxtaposition of minor pain from Aziraphale's roughness and how good it felt to be fucked.)

Aziraphale's mouth was on his throat and he bit and kissed and soothed the reddened skin with his tongue, marking him up with a new collar of bruises and wrung moans and whimpers and all sorts of sounds from Crowley as he moved in him, and moved his body for him until all that was left was just _taking it_. The thought of being so thoroughly had and used made Crowley's eyes fall shut and a breathy keen to fall from his throat that almost transformed into an _i love you_ , but it was far too early for that.

With a sharp bite into Crowley's shoulder and bruises dug into his hips, Aziraphale came inside Crowley, filling him with a hot wetness. Without even a second to spare for Crowley to gather his thoughts, Aziraphale's hand was on his aching cock and firmly stroking him up and down, quick enough to bring him to his own climax, as sensitive as he was, within seconds. Covering Crowley's mouth with his own, Aziraphale swallowed his noises and licked into Crowley's mouth like a conquering force, and Crowley gladly surrendered to it.

The seal of their mouths broke and Crowley chuckled, leaning in to lay sweeter kisses on Aziraphale's lips, who only laughed and kissed back, much softer than before, and his hands roaming Crowley's body again. This time just to touch, to soothe and enjoy the way they were pressed together.

"Is that what you wanted, love?" Aziraphale asked with a smile.

Crowley nodded, still a bit stupid from the high of their encounter. "Mhmnyeah, 's good. Liked it, thought I was clev'r but clever angel was cleverer'r…" He slurred.

"Let me get you down from that dear, and then, what about a nice bath?" Aziraphale hummed and was already reaching for the ropes around Crowley's arms behind his head.

"Yeah, 's nice. _Yer_ nice. Love you, angel."

"Oh, I know, dear. I love you too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>


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